


Nothing I've Become

by Sonny



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gap Filler, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-27
Updated: 2003-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonny/pseuds/Sonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What If... Michael hadn't made it to Brian's *scarfing* scene in time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING... This is a DEATH FIC of a major character, in the very beginning, but I promise to make things all better by the end... if you can stand the pain...

Michael stood at the set of windows, in a row, reflecting the bright lights of the ill-fated city of the Pitts. It was almost nine-thirty or maybe ten o’clock. He couldn’t remember the last time he focused his tired eyes on his wristwatch. All he knew was that, he was late. Too late ...

Someone had opened a few of the glass panes. A slight breeze blew the white gauze of the curtains through the air. Michael barely heard the voices talking behind him, or felt the gentle touch to his shoulder. Someone was speaking in his ear, but the tone was muffled, not audible unless he turned to look directly at the person. So Michael did just that.

Emmett stood by Michael’s left shoulder, cupping the boney structure in his trembling palm. The detectives told him that Michael hadn’t moved from this position since they'd arrived. He wasn’t in the way of their investigation, just quiet and immovable. They hadn’t known how to approach him. Emmett tried not to look at the white sheet covering the once warm body of Brian Kinney. He knew that was probably why Michael wouldn’t turn around. If he didn’t see Brian’s lifeless form, then nothing happened. Everything was all right. “Honey ... sweetie ... why don’t you come home ... I’ll make you some warm soup ... a hearty sandwich ...”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Em.” Michael thought that Emmett looked odd, out of sorts. He'd held a party, to end all parties, less then a half-hour ago and he was worrying over his state of mind. “‘Sides, the apartment’s kind of crowded. I think I’ll stay here.”

“Michael, come on. This place will be crawling with police men for hours ... until they’ve finished investigating.”

Michel seemed to not comprehend what Emmett was saying. “Investigating what?”

Emmett couldn’t believe Michael could forget that quickly. “Honey ... don’t you know ... Brian’s de-?”

Michael closed his eyes to the intense pain of sudden loss. “I know he’s fucking dead, Emmett! I just don’t know why they’re bothering to look for clues when I already know what happened.”

Emmett stepped closer to Michael’s side, wondering if he had some secret to reveal. “What are you talking about?”

Michael could barely swallow his next breath. “He killed himself.”

“What? Honey ...” Emmett thought Michael might have been mistaken, but the more he watched the detectives, picking up clues with plastic gloves, and did his own surveillance of the loft, he paid closer attention to the area where Brian’s body had been found. The wooden rafters above held their own clues of dangling strands of some silky fabric. “Oh ... Jesus ... Michael ...” Emmett went to cover his mouth from upchucking. “I’m sorry ...”

Michael turned a bewildered eye to his ex-roommate. “Are you truly? Hmm, funny. I think you’d be singing a different tune, if he was alive. Calling him sick, twisted and perverted for wanting to try this new game to reach the Big O.”

Emmett tried not to appear hurt by Michael’s pissy attitude. He needed to remember that he’d just walked in and found his best friend, of sixteen years, hanging from the ceiling not less then a half-hour ago. “I guess, then, you’ll want to be alone.” Emmett didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but he wanted Michael to understand that other people had limits, too.

Michael closed his eyes. No, he never wanted to be alone, didn’t mean to sound angry. The one person he wanted, with him, was being taken away, on a gurney, behind him. Ready to be taken to the morgue. The funeral home, Brian had made arrangements with, didn’t do business on the weekends. “Yeah ...” His voice sounded from far away.

Brian should have planned his suicide better.

The minute the loft was emptied, Michael found his body weakening. His legs wobbled, unable to hold up his own weight. Emmett made a quick grab for Michael, around the front, swiping an arm under his right arm pit. Michael sagged, but held on tightly to Emmett’s arm as if he’d sink into some deep hole.

Pressing a kiss to Michael’s wrinkling forehead, Emmett tried to compose himself for his best friend’s benefit. He couldn’t fall to pieces, if Michael did. Someone had to remain strong. Emmett felt the beginning of rumbling within Michael’s thin frame. “I’m here, sweetie. It’s all right. No one’s gonna know.” He was trying to give permission to emotionally let go.

Michael did just that. The tears he’d held back fell as he crumbled to the hardwood floor, taking Emmett with him. “No ... no ... no ... no ...” He continued to shake his head of the disaster that his life had suddenly become. Where did he go from here?

The second he’d walked through the metal door, in his gut, he knew he wasn’t going to like whatever he found. Once across the threshold, of Brian’s building, he’d heard a loud thump echoing through the hallways. He didn’t think anything strange, since the building was old and creepy, prone to odd creaks in the night. He should have left sooner when someone had questioned why Brian failed to show up for the Farewell Flannel party.

Brian hadn’t been enjoying the celebration of his birthday this year. He had continued to push Michael’s invites away, desiring to be alone. Blatantly disregard the going away party for Michael had been the limit. Michael wasn’t about to leave Pittsburgh without the assurance that Brian would be okay. David’s quick change of their flight arrangements gave Michael the extra time he needed to talk with Brian.

Brian had made plans of his own, excluding Michael. And as usual, Brian had won this round. He had been the first one, of them, to leave the Pitts.  


 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
The day of Brian’s funeral was poetic. Bright and shining. The warmth of the sun was strange after many days of cold rain and grey skies. There was a slight ruffling of a breeze.

Michael stood, back stiff, with his hands in his trouser pockets. He was completely dressed in black. Brian’s best Armani suit made to perfectly fit his slim build. No one knew of the other items of Brian’s he had on. The cowry shell bracelet around his own right wrist was the clincher. Michael’s normally ruffled raven locks had been cut shorter and slicked back from his head. A facial goatee had begun to grow around his mouth. He looked important. How he thought Brian would have wanted him to look at his funeral. Prepared to kick some ass.

Michael was dead center of the clump of mourners. Debbie and Uncle Vic flanked his sides. Debbie had clasped onto his arm since they’d arrived at the church, for the service. She had wanted to be strong for Michael, but in actuality, it was turning out to be the other way around.

To any eye, from the other side of the casket, people were thinking Michael wasn’t interested in the proceedings. The dark, stylish thin-lens sunglasses hid his red eyes. He was looking directly at the vision he could see beyond the grave site. Leaning casually against the black hearse.

Michael had seen this person at the church, as well. The reason he’d chosen to be so rude in staring was because the stranger had an odd resemblance to Brian, from a distance. Placed in his casket, just yesterday, how could that actually be HIM? What the hell was going on?

Michael had to break contact with the odd stranger when Uncle Vic and his mother both gripped his arms tightly. He lifted his gaze to the clergy man as he began the usual words for tragic occasions such as these. Also, this gave Michael the signal that it was close to the time he’d arranged to say a few words on Brian’s behalf.

Finding the courage somewhere within him, Michael broke away from his mother and uncle, pulling up beside the minister. He’d spent the night before memorizing this entire speech. Right now, he didn’t care who heard him, what they thought of his words or how they took his meaning. Only one person knew the truth ... and he was gone. Clearing his voice, Michael fixed the collar of the expensive leather coat over his thin shoulders. Brian’s jacket overwhelmed his small stature, but it gave him a certain confidence. He had planned on saying a few personal words of his own, but he wasn’t sure that the other mourners wanted to listen to his drone. He went right for his prepared poem.  


 ************************  
 **LOVER’S PRAYER**  
 **God, can you please tell me how**  
 **When or where do I start ?**  
 **I asked you to send me love and you did**  
 **Now, I’m all torn apart**  
 **You sent it in the form of a kiss**  
 **A thousand that were given to me**  
 **And now I pray for just one more kiss**  
 **For love again I want to see**  
 **But I mostly thank you because you sent it in the form of a friend**  
 **And when I knew that it was love I thought it'd have no end**  
 **But I became foolish, entangled and entrapped**  
 **And now it’s the love of this friend in my life I lack**  
 **God, I just pray that you send this person’s love back my way**  
 **I promise I won’t take it for granted because it can be taken away**  
 **I promise to cherish the love, that is if You send it to me**  
 **I just want that love back in my heart**  
 **God, will you please have mercy on me?**  
 **I know when You sent it I let it slip away**  
 **But there’s no way I can go on**  
 **I need this love today**  
 **God, if you hear me just let me know you're there**  
 **I don’t know what else to ask you for but**  
 **Just hear this lover’s prayer**  
 _ **(**_ _By FULLALYRIC_ _ **)**_  
**********************

  
There wasn’t a dry eye to behold.

Michael didn’t care to stick around. He turned on his heel and paced back to the dark Cadillac that sat behind the hearse. The stranger who had looked like Brian was gone. Michael chalked it up to a misunderstanding. Crazy idea to think Brian was walking around. They were about to lower his casket into the ground in five minutes, as people were given the opportunity to lay white roses on his coffin. He stood, near the back end of the car, relaxing against the wheel well. Crossing his arms over his chest, Michael had to shut his eyes to the pain, even though he still wore the sunglasses. He could feel the presence of someone behind him. He didn’t turn around. He just spoke, clearly annoyed.

“Is there something you need? Something I can help you with?” Michael wondered if the man was up to date on how uncouth it was to disturb a person in the midst of grief.

 _  
**“Yeah ... You ... and I want you to help me live ... again.”**   
_

Dear God, that voice sounded like Brian’s. Michael swiveled to find that no one was behind him. Shit! His mind was playing games with him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Michael kept his eyes shut as he shook his head of the strange feelings entering his head. Had he truly just heard Brian, or was he looney?

A shadow overtook Michael’s body. Someone stood directly in front of him. The hand that had been on his nose tentatively reached out to touch whomever, or whatever, was disturbing him. Michael didn’t bother reopening his eyes, or that apparition would disappear. His trembling hand hit the chest wall in front of him. Christ! The heart beat, within, was steady and strong.

 _  
**“Open your eyes, Mikey.”**   
_

 

Brian’s voice teased, as usual, pushing his nose directly close to Michael’s own cool one.

“No.” Michael’s reply was breathless. He could feel the warm breath, smelling of faint smoke and mint.

 _  
**“Why not?”**   
_

“You’ll leave me ... if I keep my eyes closed ...”

 _  
**“What? If your eyes are closed, you won’t lose me?”**   
_

 

Brian’s hand reached out to caress the reddening cheek on the right side of Michael’s bewildered features.

“Yes.”

 _  
**“Do it.”**   
_

 

Brian dared the frightened Michael.

“No.”

 _  
**“Come on.”**   
_

“No, because you’re de- ...” Michael stopped himself before he completed his thought. Which was the dream? Brian in the casket or Brian right before him?

 _  
**“Dead?”**   
_

 

Brian finished for Michael as he crossed his arms behind his back.

“Yeah.”

 _  
**“Are you sure?”**   
_

Michael’s jaw dropped open. What kind of ridiculous question was that? “No, I jus-“

 _  
**”Come on, I dare ya’!”**   
_

 

Brian sounded like he was about ready to reach out a hand and tickle Michael at the base of his ribs.

Shaking his head, quite emphatically, Michael crossed his arms over his chest causing the leather to creak at the move. “Stop it, Brian!” He felt the radiance of Brian coming near to his face, again.

 _  
**“I double dare ya’!”**   
_

A third voice broke his concentration. **“Michael!?”**

Michael was keeping his eyes shut as he turned to his right, the direction the voice was coming from. “What, Ma?!”

Debbie stopped at the hood of the Caddy. “What’s the matter with you? Are ya’ talkin’ to yourself?” She wasn’t too clear on how to approach him. He’d been so moody these past few days. She knew the cause, but some day she wanted her loving son back.

Michael went to put a hand on Brian’s chest when all he touched was thin, cool air. He’d been ready to smile as his lips quickly adjusted. Christ! How pathetically sappy did this look? His mind was playing foolish tricks on him. They had just spent most of the past two hours saying goodbye and burying Brian. How could he have been standing before him just two seconds ago? He shook his head of those crazy thoughts. “No, Ma, just thinking aloud.” He turned to open the car door for her. He helped her get situated before he stood near the Caddy to wait for Uncle Vic.

Something about the older man, his gentle ways and his entire demeanor never gave Michael cause NOT to smile at him, even if he was feeling down in the dumps. Vic’s swagger through the field of grave sites seemed twisted. Had he thought he’d be right where these poor souls found themselves a few months back? Vic had his hands in his suit pockets, taking his leisurely time up the hill to the asphalt road. He stopped, pausing to see the mourners rushing back to their automobiles. “Quite the turnout, ... hey, kiddo?” Vic was rolling his eyes to share in the knowledge that these same people were on their way to the Novotny household, willing to share every stinking family recipe and crap concoction passed down through generations.

Michael took off his shades. He couldn’t hide from Vic. The tears were already there. “I know one person who would have been shocked.” The half smile appeared on the left side of his face, as he couldn’t get his entire face in complete agreement. The side that wanted to cry won. He buried his face in his hands. “I can’t fuckin’ do this!” Michael shoulders hunched over at the sudden loss. This was all becoming too real for him.

Uncle Vic had never moved faster in his life. He grabbed his nephew in his arms, both of them crying at an unbelievable pace. “You’re not supposed to. This is a pretty shitty thing to deal with.” They were leaning against the bulk of the Caddy. “Fuck, if I’m gonna suppress my feelings for some asshole’s belief that I need to hold everything in until I’m alone. So I won’t embarrass myself.”

“Yeah ...” Michael pulled away from Vic as he swiped at his cheeks. “ ... screw ‘em!” As they tried to laugh outright, as loudly as possible ... it turned into crumbling tears. “He’s gone, Uncle Vic. Brian’s really gone.” His voice broke in pieces as he tried to vocalize what was in his mind. “No coming back ... right?”

“Nope ... no coming back, son.” Vic grabbed for the nape of Michael’s neck, tugging him closer to mesh their foreheads together. “You’ll be strong enough, Michael. I know you’ll make it, despite your lack of faith in yourself.”

“But ... I couldn’t save him, Uncle Vic. Not this time.” Michael wiped at his upper lip, pinching the loose skin. “I was ... too late.”

Vic lifted his head to stare into Michael’s muddy brown eyes. His hand still around Michael’s neck, he shook gently to drive his point home. “Don’t you dare feel guilty for this! Brian would never have meant this to happen ... for you to blame yourself.” His words were making Michael cry more, which made him upset, too. “You need to remember tragedies happen to us for a reason. They serve a purpose. You need to find that purpose in the time that you have to grieve over him. He was your life, Michael. He knew you better then you know yourself, sometimes. He was your best friend during half your childhood. How do you give up those years so quickly without feeling drained of everything you are? You buried a part of yourself today. Now ...” This time Vic placed his hands on Michael’s shoulders. “ ... you need to learn how to refill it. Make yourself whole, again.”

Michael hung his head, shaking it up and down in comprehension. “I loved him for so long, I don’t know anything different. Even when I was angry, or upset with him ... and he knew it, I could still count on him being there ... now, I can’t.” He weakly shrugged, not knowing which way to turn. “I think ... I think ...” Michael’s gaze wandered over to the freshly marked grave of Brian Kinney. He squinted to discover Brian Kinney standing over his own marker, staring down in disbelief at what he could see.

Vic wondered what was distracting Michael, but the paleness that overtook his features didn’t sit well with him. “You think ... what, Michael?”

Michael closed his eyes tightly. “I think ... I’m gonna be sick.” He was quickly rushed over to the grass portion of the cemetery. He fell to his knees with Vic, following him to the ground. A soothing hand brushed back strands from his hairline. Losing everything he’d avoided eating for days, he dry heaved until his throat was raw. Michael rocked back against Vic’s supportive chest. He wanted his old life back. He wanted Brian.

Resting against his uncle’s loving embrace, Michael sagged onto Vic. His eyes were still closed as he let the tears fall again at showing such weakness in plain view of everyone. He wanted to be buried along with Brian.

 _  
**“I’m sorry, Mikey.”**   
_

 

Brian’s voice pierced his eardrum.

Michael’s eyes shot open to gaze at the plot they’d stood at not fifteen minutes ago. The apparition Brian had turned in full view. How could he have heard those words at this much distance? “Vic ... do you see him?”

“Him who?” Vic wasn’t gonna look at anything but Michael.

Michael blinked once, finding the vision had disappeared, again. “Oh, nothing ...” He placed a hand over his eyes, wondering if you could actually die of drowning in your own sorrow?  


 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
The second Michael opened his eyes, he knew he was being watched. The apparition of Brian was sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the closet. He seemed to be contemplating a sleeping Michael. He was dressed in the same dark clothes he’d been in since the funeral. The thick bulky black turtle neck, the tight black leather pants and the hip length tan leather jacket.

The sooty-colored clothing, merged with Brian’s pale flesh, made each intricate part of his beautiful features stand out more. The hazel eyes were as rich as the finest liquors, the sable brown hair took on golden highlights, appearing smooth as satin. Michael was left breathless under the sheets, not believing that this vision of Brian was more stimulating then ever before.

“How long have you been there?” Michael tried to make his voice sound like he was used to talking to the ghosts of his mind.

 _  
**“As long as you’ve been asleep.”**   
_

“Where did you go? It’s been two weeks since the funeral.” Michael didn’t want to sound like he’d actually been anticipating the return of this version of Brian. He had, though. He pulled the covers to his chin in order to hide his true feelings.

Brian shrugged, looking around his old bedroom. All of Michael’s things had moved into the huge space, taking up every available nook-n-cranny. Some things still remained in boxes and others were laying where they might have been thrown. The place finally had a “lived-in” look. _**“I always knew, if you moved in, this place would look like a home.”**_ A strange bittersweet smile overtook his full lips.

“Yeah, well, without you here ... this place can’t be a home.” Michael tried to close his eyes to feign sleep.

Brian scooted to his knees to crawl closer to Michael’s side of the bed. _**“You know you’re on my side of the bed.”**_ He sat cross-legged near the bed frame, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He tried to smooth out the imperfection on his thigh. Stained and torn, in certain areas, the words were still clearly defined.

Only his chocolate brown eyes visible above the line of the bed sheets, Michael peered at Brian with near frustration. “I always sleep on this side.” It was a lie, truly. He could sleep anywhere. He just wasn’t used to the emptiness of Brian’s bed overwhelming him. He could only sleep where he could feel the most wear-n-tear on the surface of the king-sized mattress. Michael sneaked a hand out, from under the linen to snake across the bed tentatively touching the pliable leather within his reach. Christ! It was real! He could feel the slick material under his fingers. Would Brian allow him to touch him?

 _  
**“Did you mean this?”**   
_

“What?” Shit! Michael had been distracted by his concentration of Brian’s ethereal beauty.

Brian held up the discarded paper of the poem Michael had read at the grave site. _**“All of this?”**_

Michael’s gaze inched up to glare into the sorrow lined eyes. He stared, unflinching, as he slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, I did.”

Brian bowed his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. _ **“Shit!”**_ He rubbed at the end of his nostrils, as if trying to prevent his body from reacting in ways that disclosed hidden emotions. His shoulders slumped to know that he’d caused so much pain, when he could have had such happiness. _**“I guess it’s too late to start apologizing.”**_

Michael was bewildered by Brian’s need to keep saying he was sorry. He wanted to do his own apologizing ... for so many things. “For what?”

 _  
**“Well, for one ...”**   
_

 

Brian moved to kneel on his knees, folding his arms on the mattress. This pushed him right up against Michael’s torso under the blankets. He placed his head, gently, on the area where he knew where Michael’s heart was.

 

 _  
**“ ... not telling you the truth.”**   
_

 

His hazel gaze ripped into Michael’s soul, attempting to tell him the words that were so difficult to work his mouth around.

 

 _  
**“For second, ... being a complete asshole to disregard the honest feelings you had for me.”**   
_

 

He brought the poem out to lay between them. Brian’s head inched closer to Michael’s face.

 

 _  
**“For third, ... not being the one who read this first ...”**   
_

 

His hands reached out to peel the sheets back from Michael’s lips. He stared intently at that familiar temptation he could never miss the opportunity to touch to his own.

The thing that was shocking Michael the most, besides the words coming out of Brian’s mouth, was that the lifeless body had such warmth emanating from the slim, clothed build. Tears had already been pooling in his eyes as he watched Brian approach him. The prominent predatory manner still lay within. This time it was for him. Michael didn’t know how to take the situation. All he knew was that he never wanted it to end. “Brian ...” His hand reached out to stop the mouth coming at him. He didn’t want to stop anything, but just needed to delay them for a while so he could say a few things. “I’ve missed you ... so much ...” He could barely get the simple phrase out. Michael had so much to reveal about what was going on inside of him.

Brian shut his eyes, hearing the clear sign of pain. _**“I know.”**_ He kissed the hand that lay on his lips.

“Do you?” Michael chose to sit up in the bed, keeping the sheets tucked around his hips. The palm from Brian’s lips stretched out to rub against the rough skin of his cheek. Brian pushed into the tender touch like he’d been unable to function without it for way too long.

 _  
**“I’ve missed you, as well.”**   
_

 

Brian stood straighter so he could maneuver his body onto the side of the bed. He crept closer to Michael, nearly pushing him back toward the wall, against the pillows, to reconnect in their old manner.

 

 _  
**“I’ve missed this most.”**   
_

 

Their foreheads meshed as one blend of a beating pulse.

Michael had no idea what Brian had intended so his arms went out from his body. They fluttered in the air, unsure of where to go. They seemed to find their own way, despite his nervousness. Why did this Brian feel so real? His hands cupped the creaking leather-covered shoulders. He couldn’t decide whether to push or pull him close. His heart decided for him. His fingers touched every plane and fold of the clothes, not so certain that Brian wouldn’t pull his disappearing act again. He smelled like the old best friend he knew, woodsy and musk drenched ... leather tinged and a slight odor of manliness that equated to his characteristics.

Brian’s lips hovered over Michael’s as he intently gazed at the succulent flesh. He wanted to take a quick sample, but didn’t know how far Michael would allow him to go. Shit! He’d come this far! _ **“Help me?”**_

The quiet, hushed request infiltrated Michael’s foggy head. “Help you do what ... exactly?”

 _  
**“What I asked of you in the cemetery.”**   
_

 

Brian had no idea if Michael even remembered half of what had gone on since finding him in the loft.

Michael hoped that Brian would forgive him for not paying close attention to what had been said. “And that was ...?”

 _  
**“To live again.”**   
_

 

Brian put the simple phrase out hoping that Michael wouldn’t be scared away.

“Wha-?” Michael was even more confused now. Brian was gone. Dead and buried for two weeks. How the hell could Michael help him, now? “And how do I do that?”

 _  
**“I need to find a soul ... to save.”**   
_

Pick me!Pick me!Pick me! Michael heard his soul cry. “Wanna run that by me again?”

Brian lightly chuckled, not feeling that this was a situation that called for laughter. He thought the Rules were a little biased, too. _**“That’s why I was gone for two weeks. I didn’t understand at first, but wandering around the lowly streets of the Pitts ... kinda gave me the chance to figure it all out.”**_

“Figure what out?” Michael gripped a corner of Brian’s jacket to tug him away to get a better look at his face.

 _  
**“My purpose for returning.”**   
_

“Which was?”  
 _ **  
“Unfinished business. Setting the wrong things right. Not being able to get into Heaven.”**_ Brian listed all the choices like a grocery list of items. _**“I went over all the scenarios in my head, but I could only come up with one thing.”**_

“And that was?”

 _  
**“I came back ...”**   
_

 

Brian reached out a hand to cup Michael’s cheek.

 

 _  
**“ ... for you.”**   
_

 

The words were exactly what Michael needed to hear as he completely fell to pieces. This wasn’t how he expected Michael to react. He pulled the weakening form to his embrace as he consoled his friend. “

 

 _  
**Sshh ...it’s okay, Michael. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.”**   
_

Wiping at his eyes, Michael seemed to find a renewed anger. “For you ... no! You’re already dead!” Michael tried to use his forearms to push against Brian’s chest. This was all too surreal for him. “I’m the one that has to live on ... without you ... asshole!”

Brian watched Michael slink away from him on the mattress, afraid to touch, smell, see or hear him. He was doing exactly what he had feared. Frightening Michael was the last thing he wanted to do. _**“Don’t pull away from me, Michael.”**_

“I’m sorry if this hurts you, but this goes WAY beyond the boundaries of me ‘being there’ for Brian Kinney.” Michael huffed, like a frustrated child. He crossed his arms over his heaving chest. He wanted to collect his prissy emotions. Crying, like a baby, wasn’t going to solve anything.

 _  
**“Don’t you see, Michael? I am HIM.”**   
_

“No ... you are not!” Michael shook his finger at the image of Brian on the bed. “You may be some beautiful creation sent to worm your way back into my life, showing me all the pretty bits and getting me to come out of my self-imposed shell ... if this is someone’s Big Plan to get me back to the land of the living. No, sorry! I won’t fall for this so easily. I’m gullible, but I’m not stupid.”

Brian hung off the side of the bed, all hope draining from him. He should have figured things out sooner. His time was running out. Michael didn’t need to know that. _**“No one thinks you’re stupid, Michael.”**_

Michael covered his hands over his face. “Could you just leave, please?”

 _  
**“I can’t.”**   
_

 

Brian stood from the bed, pacing to the closet. He leaned back on the sliding door.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

Brian was devoid of any emotion shown on his face. _**“I tried leaving ... when I couldn't bear to watch you any more ... knowing I couldn’t take away this pain I’ve left you with ... thinking you’d live on without me ... hating me ...”**_ He shook his head at his frilly feelings that didn’t sit well with Michael’s idea of his Brian Kinney. How could he fight against his own image? The one he had tried so hard to perfect. Brian didn’t think Michael wanted to hear this right now, so he went back to this explanation. _**“I opened the door, but it’s like there’s a wall there ... that I can’t go through.”**_

Michael kept his hand just over his mouth, unable to comprehend this entire scene with Brian. “What about disappearing? You were good at that at the funeral.”

Brian let a small grin slip out. _**“Tried that to. No good.”**_

“Well, what the hell is supposed to happen now? I am not staying here with you ... like this.” Michael didn’t mean any disrespect to Brian’s choices of not changing clothes. In fact it was odd that Brian smelled like he had just stepped out of the shower.

Brian felt the tremors to his hand, but decided to hide them behind his back. They had begun early this morning. One of the many signs that he had a limited time here. He didn’t want Michael’s pity. He had to make the choice himself. Problem was Brian was growing less and less sure that Michael even wanted to be saved. _**“Don’t worry. I'll find a way to leave.”**_

“Good!” Michael scooted to the edge of the other side of the bed. Despite moving all his stuff in, he’d left a certain area of the bedroom as a timid shrine to Brian. Some drawers still had some of his under things, a couple of T-shirts and items they had shared during their friendship. Pictures, mostly. Some were placed on the top, perfectly framed. The cowry shell bracelet and one of Brian’s watches lay in full view, like Michael wore them on occasion. Wrapping the thin bed sheet around his waist, Michael went about collecting things for his shower. He didn’t want to give Brian any ideas. He had hated being rude, but there was something disturbing about being thrown for a loop at the funeral, not showing up for two weeks and then walking back into the loft as if nothing had happened. The new, slightly improved Michael Novotny wasn’t going to be impressed by mere words. He almost got halfway into the bathroom when he heard the small call of his name.

 _  
**“Michael?”**   
_

 

Brian couldn’t bare to look at Michael. This version was too similar to his old manner when he was alive.

“What?” Michael sighed heavily, upset to have his routine being disrupted.

 _  
**“Are you happy?”**   
_

“What kind of question is that?”

 _  
**“Were you ever happy?”**   
_

Michael knew how to answer that one. “Of course.”

 _  
**“When?”**   
_

“Whenever I was with you. But then you never believe me before. You took that away from me. So ... no ... I guess, I’ll never be happy again.” The smallest piece of the old Michael spoke as he turned to head in the direction of the huge shower stall.

Michael never stayed to watch Brian slink down the wall to fall to the floor in a near dead faint. As if his entire strength had just walked out of the room.  


 **~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
Michael had nearly an hour to think about what Brian had said to him in the bedroom. Looking at himself in the mirror, he chuckled to find he could still say “Brian” when he was obviously dead. He didn’t know who was out there trying to hoodwink him into some creepy death pack.

It sort of reminded Michael of all those star-crossed lover stories, throughout the years. Of meant-to-be romances and soul mates finding each other. He felt bad for his treatment of this apparition of Brian. Dressed in jeans and a button down silk blend shirt, hanging open to expose his washboard chest, Michael shaved the last of his stubble. He liked the goatee look he’d kept since the funeral. Splashing the warm water from the bowl over his open pores, Michael scraped the last of the shaving cream from his skin. No sound was coming from the loft. He wondered where Brian had gotten to.

Wiping his hands on the small towel, Michael wandered into the bedroom almost ready to do battle with Brian. “You know, as I got to thinking, in there ...” Brian was no where to be found. Michael checked back in the bathroom, then opened both sides of the closet. Where could he have gone, if Brian claimed he couldn’t go anywhere out of the loft? He paced over to the tiny dresser that used to be one of Brian’s. He slipped his shoes on as he placed the watch around one wrist and went to wrap the cowry bracelet around the other. He walked out of the bedroom, down the two steps, to venture a look about the loft for Brian’s hiding place. He didn’t have too far to go.

Brian had discovered a ledge where he could perch near the row of windows. He had opened the pane to allow the breeze in. He was framed behind the white gauze curtain. He wanted to play this time off just like they had always been together ... good, close friends. _**“You look ...”**_ Brian tried to find the word to fully encapsulate Michael’s appearance. What made him ache the most was the gorgeous man he had known always lay beneath the demure Michael. This one ... the newer version was pure ... sex. The facial hair, neatly trimmed, surrounded those lips that drove Brian wild. The once short hair was spiked all over his head, in wispy clumps, as if he’d mussed it up in bed. Why, oh, why hadn’t he looked a little closer, when he’d really had the chance? Why hadn’t he fought harder to keep Michael by his side?

Michael looked down at his unimpressive body. “Different? Hmm ... nice, I guess, but you’re a little late with the compliments.” He began his morning routine of getting breakfast and coffee. Brian never moved once from the ledge. “You hungry?” Michael didn’t want to seem inhospitable.

 _  
**“Thanks, but I don’t ever feel the need to eat. Kind of a perk ... being dead, you know.”**   
_

 

Brian felt like he sounded sarcastic, but Michael didn’t sense it.

“How lucky for you. Beautiful AND able to stay so thin.”

Brian was shocked to discover that Michael had worked a simple way of life for himself. He had thought that Michael would be a complete basket case. He knew if it had been the other way around, Brian wouldn’t have been able to function. _**“Did they take you back at the Big Q?”**_

Michael made a face. “Why would I want to go back to that dump? Gave me nothing but grief.”

 _  
**“So, what are you doing?”**   
_

“Well, I sold something that gave me money to do whatever I wanted.”

 _  
**“Oh, really ... what did you sell?"**   
_

“Your birthday present to me.”

Brian couldn’t stop his heart from breaking a bit more. Had Michael truly let go of him? Piece by piece, getting rid of all the things that reminded him of Brian. _**“You dreamed of owning that issue since I’ve known you ... why the hell would you just sell it like that?”**_

“Because, Brian ...” Michael stormed over to Brian, coffee mug in his hand, in complete state of rage. How dare he! “Sometimes people leave us and we have to grow up! Sometimes we’re left all alone to find our way through the woods to safety. No compass and with a shitty sense of direction. We stumble and we fall, but we pick ourselves back up because we know that there’s something bigger and brighter for us out there.”

Brian knew he was being given a lecture. Show that Michael knew how to bounce back, even without him. _**“I’m proud of you, Mikey.”**_

“Thanks!” Michael wandered over to the couch where a soft leather knapsack sat.

 _  
**“Where you off to?”**   
_

“The money I got ... I re-enrolled in college. This time I’m looking for a new career. Today is one of my busiest class days. I won’t be back until late.”

 _  
**“What about owning your own comic book store? I thought ...”**   
_

“Buzzy would never think of retiring, Brian. He’ll die behind that freakin’ counter before they ever wheel him out.” Michael had hated squelching his childhood dreams to become something he knew he couldn’t put his whole heart into.

 _  
**“What about the money I had, Michael? What happened with that?”**   
_

Michael found he could laugh outright over this bit of information he had to give. “They contested your will. Said I wasn’t owed anything of your estate.”

 _  
**“They who?”**   
_

 

Brian couldn’t even find the strength to become angry. He only made the inflection in his tone of voice.

“Joan and Claire. Sides they needed the money more then I did.”

 _  
**“It’s all gone?! You just let them have it?!”**   
_

Michael shrugged, not really wanting to get into an argument with Brian before his first class. Grabbing his light jacket, Michael slung the backpack over his shoulder coming at Brian on the window sill. “Fuck you, Kinney! You weren’t here! You didn’t see what they were planning on doing to smear your name. I couldn’t see your legacy being ruined by rumors and lies. I did it ...”

Brian couldn’t believe what had happened in two short weeks while he’d been away. He stared back out the open window. _**“ ... for Gus.”**_

Michael quieted down as he watched Brian seem to become emotionally overwhelmed. “Yeah, well, I guess, that’s appreciation for you. You’re welcome, by the way.” He headed for the door. “I’ll be back later.”

Brian’s voice softly spoke as he found his throat choked by emotions. _**“Thanks.”**_ He looked down at the street. Michael threw his backpack in the rear of the Jeep and climbed in. Brian felt like he was dying all over again.  


 **==========tbc...==========**   
[](http://docs.google.com/Doc?docid=0AeKjF_KZqdm0ZGQ2emh3dHpfNDk5Y2doeGc1ZHg&hl=en)

  



	2. Chapter 2

  
Brian hadn't moved one inch since Michael had left that morning. He found he couldn't move at all. It was nearing nine o'clock. He watched Michael walk out of the Jeep, talk to several neighbors on the street, laughing and joking as he made his way into the building. He thought he might hear the drone of the elevator, but Michael must have taken the stairs. 

The jangle of keys being worked into the lock made him try and sit straighter, perk up a bit more. He couldn't let Michael know what was happening. Better for him to just disappear.

Michael pressed the security code in as he slid the heavy metal door closed. He threw the lock as habit since knowing that no one but solicitors and religious fanatics ever knocked. He had asked that his family keep their distance until he was ready. He didn't know if he'd ever be ready to face anyone. He noticed Brian had remained in his same perch from hours ago. Weird. He could swear that the view of Brian was even more hazy through the gauze curtain.

Michael knew he had left on a sour note. He walked over, hands in his jean pockets. He was prepared to apologize, but he had no idea if Brian even saw him approach. The slight turn of his head gave it away. "Hello ..." He smiled weakly, knowing how awkward this was for them both. "I don't have to be worried about you jumping, do I?" Michael morbidly joked wanting to find some comfort level with Brian if this was to be their new relationship.

With his last ounce of strength, Brian lifted his hand, index finger extended, to tap at the open window. Air was obviously blowing through, but the sound, as he hit the empty space, sounded like glass. He snickered as he swiveled to face Michael. _**"I forgot to ask you ... is there anyone new in your life?"**_

Michael lifted a curious eyebrow. "After David left? There is a guy I'm sort of interested in."

Brian couldn't help the jealousy coursing through his body. _**"Really? Who?"**_

"A professor of mine. He teaches a gay studies in literature class."

_**"Is he hot?"** _

"Yeah." Michael's voice sound like he wanted to know why Brian was asking.

Brian found he could still smile, slightly. _**"You always had good taste. What's his name?"**_

Michael didn't know how much he should disclose, since the friendship was still so fresh. "Ben."

_**"Ah ... Benjamin."** _ Brian tried the sound of the name on his tongue. _**"Michael and Benjamin ..."** _

"He likes to be called Ben."

_**"Yeah ... he would."** _ Brian didn't mean to take pot shots at strangers, but he was about to soak up his last remaining images of Michael before he truly left the loft. He could feel it in his heart that his time was up. _**"Come here ..."** _ From deep within him, probably drawing strength from seeing Michael hold his own together, Brian moved to hang his legs off the ledge. 

Michael did just as asked. He reached out to hold back the curtain, when he noticed that the gauze was practically still covering Brian's slumped form. "Christ! You're fading!" He had no idea that this was what would be happening. "What does this mean?"

Brian held up a finger to shush Michael. _ **"You wanted me out of the loft this morning."**_

"Yeah, but ... this is hours later, when I've had to think about all the stupid shit I said ... and all that I didn't get to say ..." Michael felt the tears pooling quickly as he realized that Brian had known all day that he was disappearing, probably moving on to some other worldly realm. He wanted to touch his skin badly, but he didn't know where it was safe. "Why didn't you tell me?"

_**"Because your decision had already been made."** _

"What decision?" Michael couldn't even remember being given a chance to choose.

_**"The one to move on without me. You're doing it."** _

Michael wiped at the moisture under his eyes. "Yeah, but not very well."

_**"I beg to differ."** _

"It's all a rouse ... a cover. I'm not moving on at all, Brian. I haven't spoken to Ma or Uncle Vic since the funeral ... I don't hang out with Em or Ted anymore. Liberty Avenue is a lonely road without you. Babylon's a shell of nothingness ..." Michael noticed that Brian was fading in and out. His body was falling into fainting spells of consciousness. He couldn't even touch him to help. "What happens to you ... if I don't allow you to save my soul?"

This gave Brian a spurt of energy. His color came back. He was fleshed out again. Brian fell to the floor. Michael followed, finding any way he could to hold onto Brian in his arms. _**"Then Joan was always right ..."**_

Michel pulled his body flush with the wall, cradling a weakening Brian in his arms. "No! I refuse to believe that. That place doesn't exist for you, because you lived it right here ... when you were alive. It's not fair!" Michael cried up to the high ceilings. The wind began to pick up outside.

_**"Uh ... oh! Someone's pissed. Don't mess with Mikey!"** _ Brian barely spoke the words as a tease to calm Michael down. 

"Damn, right!" Michael tucked Brian's face under his chin prepared to never let go. Hold on as strong as he should have when he had the chance. Tell him his true feelings when he had the chance.

_**"Mikey ... I'm scared!"** _ Brian sounded all of eleven as he began to cry. Oh, why did fate have to be so cruel? 

"No ... no ... sshh, I'm here, now." Michael rocked Brian in his embrace. "I'm not leaving you. They'll have to take me with you."

_**"Promise me ..."** _

"What? Anything!"

Brian raised his head up to attempt a forehead mesh that would last for all time. _**"Make sure Gus knows how much I did love him ... will always ... love him. That I was something ... not the nothing ... I've become."**_

"You never were nothing to me. He knows already, but I won't let him forget ..." Michael tried to grab for the fading arm that slumped to Brian's side. "Brian ... no! Not! Yet!" The arm came back into focus. He brought that particular hand up to his lips.

Brian sighed his last breath by focusing his eyes into Michael's for the final time. _**"And you ... as well ..."**_

"Me, as well, what?" Michael closed his eyes softly rocking Brian in his arms until he could reopen them finding himself as alone as he ever would be ... his complete heart dissolving with the last view of Brian in his arms. All that was left was an open window and his cold empty arms ...  


**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
**Brian's Loft...  
Present Time -** _ reality bites back _ **-**

  
Michael had never felt so cold in his life. He'd woken himself out of his nightmare to find he was laying outside Brian's loft. His head lay on the tightly packed duffel bag he'd used as a pillow. The sliding of the metal door creaked to allow Brian the chance to see what disturbance was in the hall.

"Christ, Mikey! What the fuck are you doing out here! It's fuckin' freezin'!" Dressed in thin sweat pants, and nothing else, Brian bent down to see if he could help Michael with anything. Was he okay? Was he hurt?

"Don't!" Michael backed away, unsure of THIS Brian. "Don't touch me! Give me a minute to wake up." He used his trembling hands to cover his face.

"How long have you been sleeping out here?" Brian began to rub at his naked arms, creating some heat for his chilled body. "Why didn't you use your key?"

"I've been out here since eight, or so ... and I don't have any keys with me. I packed a bag and left the apartment." Michael knew his excuse was lame, but he didn't know how to better explain himself. "I didn't know if you were alone or not."

"I was." Brian stood, holding down a hand to Michael. "Come inside where it's warm."

Michael allowed those words to seep into his empty places. Brian might as well have said, "Come inside where it's home.", because that's the way he felt right at this very minute.

Brian wasn't dead. Michael hadn't been late to save Brian. It was just his crazy subconscious playing tricks on him. Leaving Ben at the apartment, after his threats to inject himself with the tainted needle, had brought too many emotions to the surface. His nightmare had only added fuel to the fire. Once he grabbed Brian's hand, Michael held on for dear life. The skin was so warm and soothing. Michael quickly enfolded Brian in his arms as he stood to his short stature.

"Hey, hey, hey! What's this?" Brian hadn't felt this close to Michael in a long while. His arms surrounded his close friend.

Michael dropped down from his tippy-toes, still wanting to hold Brian in his arms. Only to be sure he wouldn't fade away, like in his dream. "I confronted Ben about his steroid use."

Brian was confused. "Yeah, I know, I have a wonderful scar to show for it."

Michael shook his head. "Those sad efforts didn't improve much, but I forced the issue tonight." He dropped his head in shame.

Brian locked a hand around Michael's neck pulling his face back up. "Don't ever be ashamed! He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No." Michael did the corresponding shake of his head. "I left him."

"What?" Brian stared dumbfounded, completely at a loss for words. "Wanna run that by me again?" Crossing his arms over his naked torso, he moved backward to lean on the open doorway.

"I packed a bag before I had our talk and I decided to stay away for a few days. Give him some time to stew." Michael raised his puppy-dog brown eyes to gaze into Brian's piercing hazel ones. "Can I stay here? Crash on your couch?" He tried to wipe away the evidence of his unshed tears.

Making a frustrated face, Brian roughly pulled Michael close to press their lips together. He ended with an intense merging of their foreheads. "What are you talking about? I've got a big enough bed." He pushed Michael to get his sorry ass inside. Like he didn't have enough sense to get out of the cold.  


**~~ &&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~&&~~**

  
Brian hefted the packed duffel bag over his shoulder. Christ! How the hell had Michael lugged this thing through the line of mass transit he took to come here? "Did you eat anything before you split?" Bumping his hip against Michael's ass, he quickly slid the door shut. He set the bag down, turning to lock the door and start the security alarm. Brian stepped over the bag to walk into the kitchenette. 

"Pasta night at Ma's. With Rodney." Michael spoke the new name as if it would mean something to Brian. He made a face of half a smile in a frown.

"Who the fuck is Rodney?" Brian had no reason to feel jealous, but any strange man found at Debbie Novotny's dinner table was cause for questioning. If Debbie was trying to set up future prospects for her baby boy, for when Ben ... well, that would just be down right cold and heartless. He moved to peer into his near bare refrigerator.

Michael climbed onto one of the spinning stools, still feeling quite chilled. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on the fragile fingers. "Oh, shit! That's right. You haven't heard. Rodney is Vic's new ... beau."

Brian swiveled in shock. "A boyfriend? Good for Vic. I knew the old dog still had it in him. Deb must be in stitches. Did he even get one word in edgewise?"

"Barely." Michael always liked the ease of conversation between them. "But what little he had to say was plenty."

Brian was hanging off the door, waiting for Michael to take his pick of the emptiness. He'd opened the freezer, which didn't fare batter. "I knew it! Vic's a wild animal?!" He teased lightly, listening to Michael's chuckling. "So ... Mikey, did you stay for seconds or am I gonna have to feed you with my bare necessities?"

Michael peered over the counter into the open door. "I could go for the leftover Chinese." He sat back down to watch Brian mess around the tiny area. Never amazed him how comfortable Brian was barely clothed. He knew how beautiful, and amazing, he looked doing the simplest tasks. Michael was finally becoming warmer when Brian dug out the four Chinese food boxes to nuke.

Brian opened all the containers, sniffing to make sure the bacteria hadn't set in, yet. He reached above his head to pull down two plates. "So ...? Was he cute? A dog? An asshole? A prince? You're not saying much, Mikey. Don't leave me in suspense." All that was left of the take out was dumplings and spiced noodles. Brian prepared each plate, dividing the egg rolls and white rice evenly, as he set the first meal in the microwave.

"I guess he's all right. Not a stunner. Subtle ... like Uncle Vic."

Brian sniffed a quick response. Would Vic have chosen anything less? Or more? He got a funny tingle to his heart to know that Vic might be finding something to hold onto, besides the disease. He wished ... "Where'd they meet?" He leaned back against the counter, near the stove, wondering how Vic had met anyone when he seemed not to get out much.

"A Positive Gay Men's Group."

"Ah ... therapy. A wonderful place to meet your next soul mate." Brian pushed out sarcastically. He crossed one bare foot over the other as he clock watched the heating process. Why did two minutes seem like an eternity with a microwave?

"How do you figure?" Michael giggled knowing that Brian had absolutely no keen insight into this thought, just his own ideas, warped as they were.

"First ..." The beep sounded at the right moment. Brian grabbed a hand towel to reach for the hot plate, carrying it over to the opposite counter, next to the sink, to cool down. He placed the towel over his shoulder, moving to take the second meal in the microwave. " ... you find that at least you both share ONE THING in common. Loads to discuss. Second ... you get to discover all their bad qualities before the relationship even has a chance to begin."

"That ... was so lame ... but so ... you."

Brian bowed in appreciation. "Why, thank you, Mr. Novotny. I don't like to let my audience down." He went about digging in his drainer to pick out two forks. "What sage advice did Rodney have to share?" He used a fork to stir the dumplings and rice as one clump of food. He took a tentative bite to test the heat. Still needed more time to cool.

"Stuff about only dating positive men ... how negative men will never understand ..." Michael wanted to say more, but he thought that might be enough for Brian to take before he blew a gasket. He slipped his jacket off one shoulder, and arm, at a time.

"I bet that won your heart over." Brian noticed that Michael avoided his eyes. This must have been a harder topic to discuss, or listen to, then he led on. "Mikey, that's just one man's opinion. Doesn't mean every pos guy wants the same thing." He smirked knowing how uncomfortable Michael must have been at his own mother's table. Like Odd Man out.

"Yeah." Michael released a sad smile. Brian had his back turned to him, watching the second meal spin on the turntable. "Problem is ... that's exactly the way Ben feels ... or so he began to scream at me as we were fighting." The microwave ding-ed, telling of the completed heating process, but Brian made no move to open the door.

Brian's shoulders slightly slumped. He was getting closer to why Michael was here at the loft visiting him. "What happened?" Stunned for a minute, he was spooked by the after-beep that reminded him there was a plate to be taken out in the microwave. He used the towel again, as an oven mitt, to drag the second plate next to the first one. "Which?"

"Noodles." Michael reset his body on the seat, hoping he wouldn't roll away too far from the bar. He stood on the rungs of the stool, seeming to grab for a napkin, but, instead, he swiped a dumpling. He plopped it in his mouth before Brian could defend his food.

"You wanted the noodles, so cease and desist!"

"Boy, you're a grouch tonight! A little territorial, too."

"I claim what's mine." Brian knew that sounded awfully suspect, so he picked up the plate with the towel in his hands to give Michael his supper. "Watch it, Mikey. It's still hot." He, then, used the towel to place underneath his plate of dumplings. Grabbing two beers from the refrigerator door, he threw one to Michael as he trekked back over to the dinner table where he'd stretched out the papers he'd brought home. His laptop was open to display his latest piece of work.

Michael spun in his seat, enjoying the sight of a non-fading Brian. Jesus, why had that dream seemed so real? And why had he dreamed of that particular topic? He supposed it had much to do with the sudden distance developing between them. As his life with Ben grew more permanent, Brian felt like an interloper. He no longer wanted Michael to soak all the fun out of his private parties. He had been slightly hurt by Brian's refusal to invite him to separate occasions where they could show up together. The Underwear Party must have been the last real "fun" thing they had been to as a pair. They went to Babylon, like usual, but there was no enjoyment in it. Michael rarely spent time on the dance floor with Brian anymore. Brian had taken to the backrooms more often these days. "What are you working on?" He slid down the seat, heading to the opposite side of the table. He ate the noodles on the way. He turned back around when he forgot to grab his beer bottle.

"Stockwell's campaign." Brian took a dumpling in his mouth. "And some other things." He made it seem like the "other things" were his best kept secrets.

"Yeah ... and thank you, by the way." Michael took the chair opposite Brian to face him across the table.

"What'd I do for you?" Brian stopped chewing the meat pastry as he glanced over at Michael as he took a seat.

"Teddy. I know how much of sacrifice that was for your reputation to humble yourself in front of a top client. Especially the frame of reference Stockwell's working off of. Does he even know you're gay?" Michael knew Brian could dazzle the pants off anyone. He just wished that he'd take precautions around men in the police chief's position. Stockwell could give Brian a lot of grief.

"It was nothing. I've become ..."

Michel nearly paled at the words. They'd been said in his dream, by Brian, but in a much different context. "What? What did you say?" He shook his head out of the fog.

"Are you sure you're all right, Mikey?"

"I'm fine. As you were saying ..." Michael tried to gulp down the noodles without choking.

"I was saying how I've actually become fond of Teddy, despite his sad, pathetic ways." Brian placed his fork down, picking up the clear lenses to place on his face. He looked through them to his computer screen.

"When did you get glasses, Brian?" Michael was bewildered to find that this was yet another thing to add to Brian's sex appeal. Looking studious. Whew! "And why?"

"Eye strain, mostly. Plus, I've been squinting a lot. It's a mild prescription. I can still see quite well without them. The headaches have stopped, too."

"Brian ..." Michael was flabbergasted to know what had gone on in his absence.

"Mikey, leave it alone. Not a big deal." As Brian was typing on his keyboard, he flew a hand about to show how small a matter it was.

Michael couldn't help feeling that they were letting each other off way too easily, despite their many years together. Maybe it was just a simple matter of choosing the battles. Or maybe, they were avoiding a much bigger subject. Michael decided that Brian would need a better excuse for his late night visit. "Since the day of your locker room brawl ... Ben and I have had some interesting discussions."

Brian had paused in the middle of typing to listen closely to what Michael was saying. "You don't say." He took the tip of the beer bottle between his lips. "They have been just discussions ... right?"

Michael was pleased that Brian sounded worried about him, but it wasn't necessary. "For the most part, yeah, but I think I might have been able to readjust Ben's thinking ... in many ways, tonight."

"We know how persuasive you can get, Mikey." Brian meant the words as a glib comment, but Michael hadn't been smiling for the last two minutes. He was quietly finishing his noodles and drinking his beer. "What the fuck happened?" Brian pushed his laptop aside and stared intently at Michael. He was back to avoiding eye contact. Something was very wrong. Feeling like being so far away from Michael was the cause of this silence, Brian moved around the table to plant himself near Michael. His ass butted up against the edge of the table. He relaxed to find out what Michael was keeping secret. "All right, Novotny ... I'm listening."

Michael sat back in the chair, wondering if this had been such a great idea. Bad enough he knew, would always know, how inadequate a boyfriend he was ... but much harder to admit to when the thing that's wrong with him was something he could never change ... would never want to change ... "When I was confronting Ben about his steroid use, he played it off like it was something all the guys do. The ones who hate being sick, who despise looking like they're one step away from the grave. When I called him on his continual usage, how much he might be killing himself, destroying our relationship ... his next response was that he wished I was positive. So all this shit could be easier for him to handle. And I wouldn't be asking all those idiotic, annoying questions. I ..." Michael used his index finger to point directly at his own chest. " ... would understand ... if I was sick like him. Me being negative is a drawback because every sniffle, cough ... fuckin' whatever, can be traced back to a cold ... but for Positive Men ... it's a whole different story. One that, apparently, my little pee brain can't grasp." Michael still couldn't believe the words said to him just days ago. Too surreal.

All Brian did was shut his eyes, deeply sigh and say one word. "Fuck." Said so softly, Michael barely heard the sound.

"That's it?! That's all you've got?!" Michael huffed as he pushed himself out of the chair. He was no longer wanting the noodles, so he walked the plate to the sink.

"What do you want me to say?"

Michael realized he'd made the biggest mistake of all. He thought he could still come to Brian with his problems. This was a fairly big one. He turned the faucet on to wash the remaining food down the disposal. "Nothing. Abso-fuckin'-lutely nothing." Squeezing some liquid soap on the dish rag, he washed his plate and fork clean as his shoulders slumped in a feeling of complete weariness.

"Obviously it's not nothing, if you decided that leaving for a few days, to hide here, was your only option."

"I am not hiding!" Michael didn't like being shown that he might have overdone the drama and been made the fool. He set his items in the drainer and squirted soap on his hands. He used the dry hand towel to wipe the wet, stainless steel sink down.

Brian moved from the table to come around the breakfast bar counter. "I have a cleaning lady who does that for me, Mikey." He stopped approaching when Michael kept backing up. What was wrong? What did he have to do or say to make things all right? His eyes wandered over Michael's body making sure he wasn't trying to hide anything from him, or that he'd just missed the obvious. That's when he zeroed in a small, fresh cut on the top of Michael's knuckles. "Hey! Wha-?" Brian was too nimble not be able to catch Michael before he walked off, again. Looking down at the pale hand in his two, Brian rubbed the soft pads of his thumbs over Michael's broken skin. He knew what broken bones felt like, but he discovered that they were still intact. Red, for now, but later on would be discolored and sore. "Does it hurt?" Brian tried to bring Michael's hand up to delicately press his lips to the boo-boo, but before he could touch his mouth to the cut, Michael had snatched his hand back.

"Only when I try to use it." Michael made the snide comment knowing that it would piss Brian off. "It just aches, right now."

"What did you do to it?"

"I hit a wall."

"Did it have a name?"

Michael knew Brian would try to find out if Ben had hurt him. "I did it to myself. I hit the Bus Stop sign, too."

"And why exactly are we breaking down in our little fits of rage?" If Michael was going to play games, avoiding the obvious subject, Brian would treat Michael like a three-year-old.

Michael lugged his duffel bag, moving over to swing it onto the art deco sofa. "Does this fold out into a bed? I can't remember." He joked about the couch since the piece of furniture probably got more use in Brian's sexual life, then the bed did.

"Mikey ..." Brian called from the kitchen. Got no response. Michael continued to yank out his clothes for bed. "Michael ..." Brian prowled closer knowing Michael was ignoring him.

Michael turned to his side, making Brian was aware of what he was planning on doing. "May I use your shower?"

Brian nodded slowly, but latched on, with an iron grip, to Michael's forearm. "But ... Not! Yet!"

Those very words sent a chill down Michael's spine. They'd been said in the dream, as well. "What? What do you want from me?"

"A fuckin' straight answer would be nice!" Brian tried to get Michael to face him directly, but they struggled.

Feeling defeat, Michael shrugged, telling Brian of his lack of care about anything any more. "I knew I should've called before I came. You're busy. I understand. I'll shower, crash on your couch and in the morning I will be out of your hair." He thought Brian would accept his answer, but they continued to battle against the release of his arm. "Let me go ... please." His words were a tiny, hushed request.

"No." Brian seemed to hold on tighter, trying to draw Michael around to face him. "You are here. We will talk. You can shower any time ... and you will NOT be sleeping on this couch!"

Michael sighed heavily, getting frustrated over the men in his life thinking he had no common sense in his head to make up his own mind. "Maybe ... I should just leave."

"You're staying." Brian placed a leg, in between Michael's thighs, that oddly kept him trapped, even when his hand went slack on Michael's forearm. He rubbed at the reddening white flesh, letting go for only a second. He had meant to grab both Michael's biceps to set him in such a way that he was resting his butt on the back of the couch.

Gravity had other ideas. They flipped over the cushions, rolling off into the distance on the floor. Brian landed on his back, on the bottom, while Michael straddled him. Neither had missed the fancy, bulky coffee table knocking them each in the shoulder and head.

"Christ!" Brian felt the pain shoot to his temple. He'd have a good shiner by morning.

"Shit!" Michael cradled his arm, easing his aching shoulder. "It's all your fault!" He slapped his rage at a bewildered Brian.

"You should have kept still!" Brian tried to sit up, but Michael put a hand out to prevent him from moving. "What?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Like you have to ask." He sat on Brian's torso proudly.

Brian kind of knew this was Michael's not-so-subtle way of getting his undivided attention. "So ... what now? Play Truth or Dare?"

Michael swished his eyebrows. "You wanna?"

"Not really, but if it will get you to talk to me ... hell, I'm willing to play any game with you."

"Anything?!" Michael's curious mind wandered too far away. Brian was able to roll them over, and over, and over until he finally had Michael underneath him. They hit chairs and small pieces of furniture rocked in their wake.

""Now ... look who's on top." Breathless by their rough housing, Brian smirked. He cackled, sweeping down into Michael's face. He never quite kissed the exposed skin, but nipped enough to tickle the nerve endings.

"Not for long." Michael struggled, mightily, against Brian pinning his arms to the floor. He tried to bite at the bare flesh exposed to his snarling mouth. He squirmed and squiggled under Brian, entangling their legs in a blend of appendages. To be fair, Brian had toed off Michael's shoes, in case he decided to kick.

"What could you possibly ...?" Brian should have known better. Leaving his most vulnerable spot wide open. "Uh! ... low ... blow ..." He leaked out the words through the numbing pain.

Michael had kneed Brian in the groin.

As he doubled over, Brian crumbled into a ball on top of Michael, allowing the advantage to roll them several times toward the television area. They bumped, scooting more furniture over the floor. Several art pieces were knocked over, but they would alternate in saving each item. Their wrestling took on an amazing tour across the hardwood floor of the loft. Each tried to get up, but the other would pull them back into their battles once again. Finally, Michael had thought he'd broken away, by dragging his body, face down, to reach the two steps into Brian's bedroom. He had only gotten his torso up the one step, when Brian had him good.

Left cheek flattened to the hardwood, straddling his upper chest, Brian sat on Michael's back. Each of Brian's knees fit underneath Michael's arm pits. That left Michael only capable of keeping his arms spread eagled. "Give in?" Brian pushed his face close to Michael's scrunched one. His heavy tufts of breath wafted through Michael's raven hair. Damn! He tried to catch his breath, but Michael kept wiggling.

"Nef-wer!" Michael chuckled out between his fish-shaped lips. He couldn't stop laughing as Brian remembered where he was most ticklish. "Schtop! Schtop!" He flapped his hands, backwards, hoping he could hit Brian at least once for him to end his torture.

Allowing them both time to calm down, Brian folded his arms, resting them on the slope of Michael's spine. He bent his head to Michael's face. "Not until you tell me what happened tonight between you and Ben."

Michael knew this moment had been inevitable. When he would have to reveal what desperate measures he took to make Ben know how serious he was about the steroid use being a problem. Not only for Ben himself, but for their budding relationship. "What do you mean?"

"You said you had to force the issue."

"Yeah ...?"

Brian shut his eyes to how ignorant Michael could play himself up to be. He knew his friend wasn't this stupid. "Tell me ... Michael. I won't hate you ..." He needed Michael to know that whatever he'd done, it was the best way to go. Everyone had pretty much abandoned him on helping deal with Ben's drug abuse, especially Brian. It had been the only way to make Michael see that this was more serious then Ben being HIV +. He hated how Michael had seen it as another sign of disinterest. Brian didn't like when he had to let go of Michael's hand ... had to show him the road to Grown-Upville. Weakly, almost able to finally balance out his lungs, Brian leaned his forehead on the back of Michael's matted raven black hair. "Please ..." He placed a soft kiss, just at the underside of Michael's ear.

The power of all his super heroic idols left him as Michael absorbed himself around Brian's deep, velvety voice. The one he'd thought he'd lost in the dream he'd had outside in Brian's hallway. He sagged like a rag doll and began to find himself unable to control the tears, barely on the surface of his emotions. Michael had been taken to the extremes this evening and he didn't know if he could ever return to face Ben. Had he actually done what he did?

Stretched over the two steps, Brian cocooned Michael on the floor, not understanding what was going on, but knowing whatever he'd done, it was out of his usual realm. He petted the hair back from the sweating forehead, placing gentle kisses to the exposed cheek. "I'm here . . . Mikey." Reaching underneath his body, Brian tucked an arm up, under Michael's chest to pull him closer. His hand strayed to cover the area of Michael's hyperactive beating heart.

Michael swiped at his eyes, wiping under his nose as he tried to compose himself to speak. "I thought being a professor meant you were smarter then everyone else, but I guess those little letters don't mean much in the real world. His drug abuse seemed so nonsensical to me. But I guess he was right, when he said I'd never understand what it was to be positive ... what more do I have to give him when his HIV has kicked him to the curb. He can't do anything to stop his own pain, but he can make sure he dies with a good-looking body? What the fuck is that?" Michael snickered at some stupid thought in his head, deciding not to voice it. "Then he had to say what he did. It hurt more then he'll ever know ... almost as badly as one other moment in my pathetic life ..."

Brian had no idea he'd unleash this kind of emotion in Michael. No idea that while he'd been trying to allow Michael the opportunity to repair his own life, he'd ignored their deep friendship more. Left Michael with no one to rely on but himself. He felt ashamed by his cruelness. Michael deserved better. He wanted to know what other moment Michael was talking about. "You're not pathetic, Mikey." Brian kissed Michael's earlobe.

Michel swiped Brian's face away in frustration. "I'm not finished, Brian."

Brian had to chuckle as Michael lay comfortably on his stomach on the hardwood floor. "Sorry."

"So, he makes me all these promises, but he's still avoiding the issues. Feeding me promises that I'm not sure he's gonna keep ... if I don't show him how much danger he's putting his life in ... quite possibly my own life ..."

"What are you saying, Michael?" Brian had to pull his body off of Michael, not sure he wanted to hear the rest without looking him directly in the eye.

The minute Michael felt Brian's weight lifted off of him, he moved over to lean his back against the foot of Brian' bed frame. He pulled his knees up to his chest, hanging his arms over his kneecaps. He needed this distance in hopes that Brian wouldn't be close enough to punch his lights out. "I got home from dinner at Ma's. I was feeling pretty low ... thinking that maybe Ben was right ... that if I was positive ... I would understand his situation and maybe ... he'd love me ... a little bit more ... and not leave me." Michael let that comment sit in between them as he went on further. "I found one of his needles, in the bathroom garbage, wadded up in tissues ... as if not to be discovered. Which kind of made me laugh, really. For a man who plays his entire existence on the steps of safe sex ... he'd clearly left one of his used steroid needles for me ... for anyone, to discover. So, I waited for him to get back home, from doing legs at the gym with ... what's-his-face ..." Michael then made a maneuver with the finger of one hand, on the arm he'd threatened Ben with to inject the rest of the remaining steroid into.

Brian held up a hand for Michael to stop. His other hand went to cover his eyes, not fathoming what he was hearing. "Enough!"

"Are you sure, Brian? Don't you wanna hear how far I almost had the needle in my vein?" From somewhere deep, Michael found the nerve to crawl on his knees toward Brian, who seemed to cower behind his hands. "Don't you like it when you can play with the edge of death ... teetering on the line ... wondering if something, or someone, will come in and change the setting for you? So, somehow, it's not your fault ... not your problem to deal with?" As close as he wanted to get, Michael sat down, cross-legged, in front of Brian. "See ... no one cares about the person left doing the saving. The victim always says, `Whew! Thanks for that kick in the ass! I sure needed that!', but who's there for the one remaining in the aftermath? Who's there to save the boyfriend of the drug abuser? Who's there for the best friend of the man who nearly committed the most sinful act on his 30th birthday ... barely two years ago? Bet you forgot ... huh, Bri? Easy to ignore when your eyes could barely see in front of you, but I ... saw everything." Michael choked on his next batch of tears, letting them fall so Brian knew how much, even after all this time, he'd been affected by Brian's actions. Even if they were against his own person.

Brian shut his eyes to the renewal of the pain. He realized that, though they had talked about it that night, deciding Brian would go to Justin's Prom and then following the aftermath of the bashing ... they had never truly settled the issue. Michael was just as traumatized as Brian had been, even more so because he had found him. "You know I was sorry, Michael, for putting you in that situation."

"Thanks, but you're apologizing for the wrong thing."

Brian couldn't even think clear. So much had come out of Michael that he needed to grasp. "What do you need me to say, Michael? What do you need to hear from me to make things all better for you?"

Michael brought his body nearer to Brian, finding a place for him to fit over his lap. His confidence was building strong again. "After everything we've done ... been to each other ... I still don't think it's been enough to save your soul, or at least, it's what you aren't sure of. I don't know if what I did made any impact on Ben. I feel like I just slapped him across the face of choosing his own death over mine. That wasn't really fair of me." Michael sat down and reached out to grab Brian's hands in his own, intertwining the fingers. At one point of Michael's perusal of Brian's bare arms and chest, he plastered the hands in his behind on the low cabinetry under the windows that Brian had been leaning on. "I don't know ... for once, I wanna know how it feels to have someone sacrifice themselves for me ... maybe we've been doing this wrong. I thought I needed to be there for everyone, but it's not worked so far ... it's time for people to be there ... for me ... I want someone to save my soul ... and I want that someone to be ... you." Michael breathed his last sentence into Brian's open mouth as he ravaged the sensual lips left to his taking. His hands loosened to trail down each wrist to come up the forearms, tickle the bend of the elbows and come up the bulge of the biceps. Michael's palms cupped Brian's face under the chin. He could feel the beginning signs of a stubble prickling his highly sensitive skin.

Brian tried to take his next breath as Michael finally released his mouth and lightly bit his way down his naked neck and torso. Wayward hands strayed down to untie the string binding the sweat pants to his trim hips. When Brian lifted Michael in his arms, still had his legs wrapped around Brian, the thin material didn't last long on his body. He basically walked right out of them as he made his way toward the bed. Michael had too many clothes on. Grabbing the hem of his tight T-shirt, Brian found Michael willing to help in the undressing process.

Their hands bumped and caressed, but Brian decided he had better interests in Michael's ever changing features. A hand on each cheek, he tilted Michael's head to arch up to him so he could tease and nip at the thickening lips. The once chocolate brown eyes deepened to near black as Michael fell deeper into his own trance. An arm about the back of his shoulder blades, Brian scooted them both, as one, up until they reached the head of the king size mattress. He tenderly placed Michael down, resting his head on the sea of pillows. Michael's eager hands went to work at his button fly jeans. Halfway down to his knees, Brian reached to help the rest of the process. They tugged off easily, inside out and flew through the air over his shoulder.

Michael sat up to latch onto Brian wrapping his arms about his neck drawing his face close to mesh their foreheads together. "Is this what you want?" He looked down as Brian worked at getting his underwear completely off. He needed to be sure, Brian didn't feel coerced into anything. This would take their relationship to another level, but one that Michael had always been ready for ... was Brian prepared?

Smirking at the idiotic question, Brian brought Michael's lower half flush with his own hips. Their abdomens tightened and pelvises met, grinding as one. No inch of space was left between them. "Does that answer your question?" Brian had worked one of his thighs between Michael's so he could feel, could sense the growing hardness of his throbbing cock.

"Yes ..." Michael undulated underneath Brian's weightless frame as they fell back to lay prone on the mattress. His feelings brought to the forefront for Brian, during his dream, he felt the most primal urge to couple with his best friend. He pulled his body away to make the move to turn on his stomach, but Brian held him down by one shoulder. Laying back against the array of pillows, Michael stared in earnest. "What?" He grabbed onto Brian's biceps to soothe and pet any nerves or hidden feelings.

"Where do you think you're going?" Brian lowered his mouth to kiss a trail along, Michael's strong jaw line, ending at one point, then coming back around for a second run. He chuckled against Michael's warm flesh generating intense heat to anything he touched. The bedroom lighting was muted enough where the darkness gave them a semblance of normalcy. The blue halogen bulbs were more for the Other Life that Brian had. One that he wasn't sure he wanted to have anymore. Got kind of boring without Michael there.

Michael felt a bit embarrassed at being trapped to explain his sexual needs. "Uh ... no where ..."

Brian didn't understand why Michael was suddenly shy. His mouth near an ear, he sucked on the lobe and licked the curl of the cartilage. "There's more time for that later. For the first time, I want ..." Now, why was he suddenly unable to speak what he wanted? Brian loosened his grip on Michael to allow him to fall back, relaxed against the pillows. In the instant those puppy dog eyes met his own hazel ones, he swallowed with difficulty. The back of his hand reached up to caress the side of Michael's face. His features grew serious and honest. "I want to drown in your eyes ... Inside of you ... I want to lose myself completely in you ..."

The more Brian spoke his lovely words, the more he convinced Michael that time was on their side. Where had all his patience gone? Probably with that damn dream he had! He watched Brian moved over to the side night stand, opening a drawer. The usual items, kept handy for theses certain times, were brought out. That's when Brian noticed something pretty peculiar that he hadn't bothered to see before. He paused with the lube and condom in his hands.

Michael thought Brian was rethinking the situation. His legs hanging off Brian's hips, he pushed his body to sit up and discover what was peaking Brian's interest. "What's the matter?"

Brian allowed his eyes to travel up from Michael's right arm to end at his watchful, curious eyes. He noticed the bashful, worried qualities surfacing and wanted to reassure him. He released the most wondrous smile on his lips. "Where did you get that? And when did you get it? I've never seen it until now."

"What?" Michael wondered what Brian could be talking about when he drew his right arm to his chest for a closer look. Surrounding his slim wrist a simple cowry shell bracelet encircled the same arm as Brian's did. "I didn't ..." He wasn't sure, but a few times Brian hadn't worn his. How in the hell ...? He blindly reached for Brian's right wrist, finding the same cowry shell bracelet against his pale skin. He didn't know how else to explain this fascinating phenomenon. Michel couldn't even feel right about telling a lie. "I wore yours in my dream." How did he say his next sentence without completely losing it? "I wasn't able to reach you in time ... that night ... in my dream." Michael put up a hand to caress Brian's cheek. He melted into Michael's touch. "I had to live on without you ... but I'd coped, barely, and I wore this bracelet ..." He brought the wrist up so they could both see, and feel, the proof that the item was real. " ... in honor of you, but your ghost haunted me ... wanted to save my soul, but ... it was too late ..." As Brian dipped his head to kiss Michael, he felt the droplets fall on his skin. "I need you, Brian ... I always have ..."

Clearing his throat of all his hidden, locked away emotions, Brian sniffed his response. "And I ... always will ..." He didn't care about tomorrow, when Michael might decide that he should go back to Ben. All that Brian truly cared about was that right now ... at this moment ... at this exact point in time ... he knew that with Michael he could become something in this world ... and not a nothing like everyone else expected. He didn't need an explanation for the bracelet on Michael's wrist ... as long as people, mostly the other men, in Michael's life knew that they were bonded by the inexplicable and bound to end up living their lives together and, quite possibly ... dying in each others arms ... but tonight would be the sweetest death of all when their souls joined and blended beyond their own comprehension.  


**==========THE END==========**


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